Except what is banished what banishes itself
Because from You we turn away
It’s all still there
the trees still dream their leaves
when the trees are bare
and we of memory in old age
would not divested be
when memory Is Him
and all the golden ways lit through Him
on our strangely meandering way
so have we come upon even in small ways
our own hints at alpha and omega
the starlight seen on childhood’s summer day
is still traveling to us by His grace conveyed
and all the roses that fade, fade not.
Mary angela douglas 7 november 2023
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